


Eight Months

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Cries, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light-Hearted, Panic Attacks, Referenced alcohol abuse, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, so many tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-08-23 12:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: Ashe isolated herself from everyone since taking the test three days ago. There's only so much hiding in her room she can do. So much hiding in the bathroom, vomiting up her guts for two straight hours every morning. So much feigning illness without it getting suspicious.She can’t keep doing this. She needs to woman up.Taking a deep, calming breath, she stands. She fucked Jesse, this is as much his problem as it is hers. He, at the very least, deserves to know why she's been avoiding him like the plague for the last three days.---a.k.a., Ashe's pregnancy journey, from taking the test to the birth of their child, with Jesse by her side every step of the way.





	Eight Months

**Author's Note:**

  * For [V0N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/V0N/gifts).

> and all my lovelies in the Sin Cave.
> 
> Hello frands!
> 
> In case you jumped headfirst into this fic without reading the tags, I want to warn that this fic tackles quite heavy themes surrounding pregnancy, as well as the emotions from it being unplanned, and the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy itself. There is also a discussion of abortion. 
> 
> I also wasn't kidding when I said that everybody cries, and that there's an incredible amount of tears shed. Happy tears mostly, but tears nonetheless. 
> 
> Despite the heavy themes of this fic which occur early on, it is overall lighthearted. I know the tags read a little contradictory, but it does have more fluff in it than angst. 
> 
> And I'll warn now. Do not use these two as your role models. If you choose to sleep with someone, _always_ use protection.

"This is stupid."

‘Confirmation in two minutes.’ ‘99% accurate as early as three weeks.’ ‘Digital display tells you how far along you are.’ There are at least a dozen different brands, varying in price from a couple of bucks right up to twenty, spaced out on three shelves. It's a rip off honestly, and it shouldn't be this hard to pick a fucking stick to piss on.

Ashe closes her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She doesn't _ need _ confirmation for something she already knows. Her boobs are tender to touch, her stomach looks rounder, it's been five weeks since her last period. Her sense of smell is so fucking strong she could out sniff a fucking bloodhound, and she didn't fucking realise just how much Jesse _ or _ the triplets reek.

This is her own damn fault. She can't say she wasn't warned about the consequences of having unprotected sex and bring drunk and bone achingly horny absolutely didn't help her decision making. What started as an innocent game of poker with Jesse, P.T., and Terran turned into not-so-innocent strip poker when Jesse lost all his chips. The other two left the second Jesse lost his hand and she ordered him to lose his pants, leaving them alone. 

She remembers it like it was yesterday. With each round she won, she picked which clothes for him to remove until he was in nothing but his hat and his cut. He got her down to her underwear, and it was all over the moment she tossed her bra in his face. He gave it a long sniff, and he stood, then, showing her just how hard she made him. The second she laid eyes on that cock of his, impressively sized, gorgeously curved, already dripping pre, she knew she needed him. She couldn't just suck on it, no, she needed to _ feel _him inside her. 

He laid her on the table, there was a brief discussion about pulling out because neither of them had protection, and the sex that followed was amazing and mindblowing. She can still hear the sound of the chips falling onto the ground with each hard thrust, and thinking about it in the days that followed made her so wet she sought him out for more sex, granted _ with _ protection.

Right now, staring at the wall of pregnancy tests, she's regretting that decision with every single fibre of her being. She knows Jesse pulled out because he finished on her stomach, she even made sure by dabbing her fingers through his spend. Of course, she knows that pulling out isn't the safest method, but 90% effective seemed pretty damn high at the time. But it only takes one, in his precome probably, because that is a thing that can happen, that's set this whole drama into motion. 

Despite knowing that she hasn't skipped a period due to stress, only because there’s been _ nothing _ to stress about, taking the test to confirm it makes it real. It _ can't _ be real. She's worked damn hard for this gang, making a name not only for them but for herself. Her life is going to change, so fucking much, and she's not sure she _ wants _ it to. Jesse sure as shit won't; he can barely look after himself now, drinking milk straight from the carton, playing video games well into the night, getting drunk _ and _ high during downtime. How will he be able to take care of a baby? Will he want to give up his carefree life for a baby?

The long, drawn-out and incessant honking from a car horn rips her back into the present, followed by Jesse's booming voice. "What’s the fucking holdup Liz?! How long does it take to get slurpees?!"

"Fuck you," she screeches. She snatches the cheapest test and goes to the slurpee machine now that it's free, getting their drinks and paying. Shoving the test in her handbag, she makes sure to bury it under all of the crap she keeps in there before heading outside. 

"It's about—"

Ashe rolls her eyes, dropping Jesse's slurpee in his lap. 

"Fuck you too," he retorts, checking himself for spills. 

_ Yeah_, she thinks to herself, feeling the weight of the test in her bag. _ Fuck you too. _

* * *

It burns in her hands.

She's reminded of Schrodinger's cat, but instead of a cat that is simultaneously dead and alive, she's got a capped test that right now confirms that she is and isn't pregnant. 

The unopened test had been sitting in her bag for a week. Ignoring it didn't do anything but make her feel more and more guilty with each passing day, but every time she thought she could do it, she chickened out. 

This morning, she needed to know. She woke up and had to run to the toilet to throw up. She's stone-cold sober and hasn't touched alcohol in a fortnight, on the off chance she _ is _ pregnant, but she feels well enough otherwise that she's sure it's not food poisoning. 

The rest of the club has noticed her sobriety, though, and there's only so many times she can deflect their questions as to why she's sticking to water. 

All she has to do is uncap it and look at the result. It's been five minutes at least, it's more than done. 

But then it becomes real.

Or life goes on. 

She hears footsteps outside the bathroom door again, but this time it's followed by a knock. "You gonna be much longer?" P.T. asks. "I'm prairie doggin' out here."

Ashe winces. He’s so fucking disgusting. "Thanks for that mental image," she mutters. "Just give me a sec."

She looks at the stick, it's now or never. Taking a breath, she uncaps it. 

Her world crashes in around her when she sees the pink plus sign. 

* * *

She doesn't know which will be worse: telling Jesse or telling Bob. 

Jesse would have her back. She doesn't want a baby. She's_ never _ wanted a baby, for the simple fact that she doesn't want to end up like her mother—cold, distant, never there. To say she had a shit upbringing would be the understatement of the century—she doesn't want to fall into the same trap as her parents and give an innocent, undeserving kid the same ‘childhood’ she had.

Jesse would support that decision. 

She thinks.

God, the uncertainty is horrendous. She's only twenty-two for fuck's sake; the whole world rests in the palm of her hand. She should be laughing and joking, drinking the nights away and getting high with the boys, not stressed out of her mind about the decision to have an abortion or keep the baby. 

What an absolute fucking shitshow she’s got herself into, all because she _ needed _Jesse’s dick. 

She sighs, long and loud, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. The guilt is the worst part of it all, though. Every time she thinks she’s confident in her decision to have the abortion, the guilt eats away at her, corroding her will until she’s back at square one, asking herself if she _ should _ keep the baby.

But time feels like sand slipping through her fingers, and she needs to make a decision soon. It’s not something she can do alone, for the simple fact that she needs someone to accompany her, to pick her up after the procedure, and she's not sure who'll try to talk her out of it. 

On top of that, she’s isolated herself from everyone since taking the test three days ago. There's only so much hiding in her room she can do. So much hiding in the bathroom, vomiting up her guts for two straight hours every morning. So much feigning illness without it getting suspicious.

She can’t keep doing this. She needs to woman up. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, she stands. She fucked Jesse, this is as much his problem as it is hers. He, at the very least, deserves to know why she's been avoiding him like the plague for the last three days. 

Before her brain talks her down, she pockets the test and heads to Jesse's room. The door is open, he's playing on his Xbox and doesn't have his mic in. Perfect.

The lit cigarette hanging between his lips isn't ideal, but that doesn’t matter, she can live with that for the time being.

"Jesse, we need to talk," she says, closing the door behind her. 

"Talk, huh?" He pauses the game and looks her up and down with bedroom eyes, taking a deep puff of the cigarette and blowing the smoke upwards in a manner that would have been seductive a couple of weeks ago. "That why you closed the door?" he asks, winking.

Ashe resists the urge to roll her eyes. "What I have to say stays between us."

That gets his attention, he sits up and clears of his stupor, holding the cigarette between his fingers. "Shit, okay, what's up?"

"I…" She looks at him and freezes. She didn't think this far ahead, didn't plan what she would say to him. Folding her arms across her chest, she crosses the room and sits next to him on the bed to buy herself some time, deciding on where to start. Might as well be from the beginning. "Remember the night of the Scottsdale heist?"

Jesse eases into a sly grin. "You mean strip poker night? Remember it like it was yesterday."

"Well…"

Jesse leans back on his elbow, grinning from ear to ear as he cups himself. "You want more." 

Ashe rolls her eyes. "Keep it in your damn pants, McCree," she scolds. "I _ knew _ sleeping with you would be a mistake."

"That's not what you said the following morning," Jesse murmurs. He sits up and closes the distance between them, his nose brushes against her cheek. "Or the five times that followed."

"Trust you to keep count," Ashe mutters, pushing his chest when he tries to kiss her neck. "I don't want more."

Jesse sighs heavily, pulling away. He lies flat on the bed, puffing on the cigarette as he adjusts himself. She can clearly make out the outline of his dick—trust him to get himself so fucking worked up he’s already fucking hard. "Then what?” He pulls the cigarette from his lips, exhaling the smoke. “We miss something in the warehouse?" 

"Ain't that either." Ashe closes her eyes as she reaches into her pocket, her hand shaking as she wraps her fingers around the test. 

"Jesus, Ashe," Jesse says quietly, sitting up and draping his arm over her shoulders. "What is it?"

She can feel tears streaming down her face, it takes more and more air to remain calm, but it's not enough. In her mind, she can see herself consoling a crying baby that won't settle, changing endless diapers. Tethered to the clubhouse while the rest of them go out on heists and drink and celebrate. 

What happens if the clubhouse is raided by the cops? Or another club? She doesn't live a safe and quiet life; she flirts with danger, every moment of every day. There's no way she'll _ allow _ herself to leave a kid alone in this world. 

She can't do this. She wants—_needs_—this _ thing _ out of her. Now.

"Liz, whatever it is, you can tell me." Jesse squeezes her tight, and she uses it as a lifeline, focusing on that instead of the vice grip on her heart. "We'll deal with it together. We're in this for the long haul, remember."

_ We'll deal with it together_. The words echo in her mind. They're partners, first and foremost; there hasn't been a problem she's had to figure out on her own because Jesse's always been by her side—he's always supported her, no matter what. 

But, it isn't the fear of telling him she's pregnant that's holding her back, it's the fear of breaking his heart when she tells him she wants to kill their unborn child to keep her lifestyle. 

She's not sure how long it takes for her to breathe slow and steady again, but Jesse doesn't leave her side throughout it, doesn't try to pressure her to speak. Jesse's a good friend—her _ best _ friend—and he'll have her back. 

Taking a final deep breath, she opens her eyes and looks into his. She doesn't say anything as she pulls the test from her pocket and opens her palm.

Jesse glances down and his eyes widen. "Liz…" he says, barely a whisper, as he cups her hand with his. 

"We made a mistake," she says, just as quietly.

Taking the test gingerly from her hand, Jesse holds it in his, ready to uncap it. He hesitates, just for a moment, before pulling it away and looking at the result. He caps it again quickly, looking at her. "How accurate are these things?"

"About ninety-nine percent accurate. But I haven't had a period this month, and I'm throwing up, and my boobs are tender..."

"Fuck," he breathes, pulling the cigarette from his lips. He looks at it and immediately snubs it out on the ashtray. "Fuck! Jesus, sorry Liz."

"Don't be," she replies. "I'm…" she inhales and exhales slowly, keeping the ball of guilt in her gut. She wants to tell him she’s certain she doesn't want it, but the words won't leave her mouth. "What are you thinking?"

Jesse doesn't say anything for the longest time, no doubt he's still processing this reality bomb, but his widening smile shows his true feelings—he's happy. 

She has to look away. 

"I'm… I'm excited. It'll be an adjustment but we’ll make it work."

"That's the thing," Ashe says, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "What if it _ isn't? _"

"You don't want it," Jesse murmurs. He says it too neutral to get a read on his thoughts on the statement, but it's all in his eyes, and _ seeing _ that heartbreak is worse than she ever thought it would be.

She can feel the bile rising, and she swallows it down. She needs to know. "Would you support me?"

"Of course," Jesse says quickly, taking her hands in his. "I'm not going to force you to have a baby you don't want."

The relief of that statement is what she imagines skydiving is like. Every emotion she was keeping contained—guilt, sorrow, loneliness—all bursts forth and she sobs. Jesse holds her tight, rubs a hand on her back in comforting circles, and she grabs fistfuls of his shirt, riding out the tide of emotion. 

Soon enough, relief takes its place. Relief that Jesse supports her, relief that soon enough this whole drama will be behind her. 

As she starts to settle down, she buries her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his smell, and feels eerily calm despite everything. She doesn't know why she doubted Jesse, he always has her best interests at heart. He makes sure she's okay, he dotes on her when she's injured. Hell, he listens to all her ranting about club spending when he doesn't need to. 

Maybe it's the hormones talking, maybe it's desperation, finally getting physical and emotional comfort after feeling so alone during the last couple of horrible weeks, but getting it out there has cleared her mind. She shouldn't have tried pushing him away, she should have told him, as soon as she knew. He would have given her the strength to handle this. 

She lets go of his shirt then, laying her palms flat on his back. They might not have said the words, those three words given just how emotionally charged they are, and she might not have even _ thought _them right until this very moment, but she knows. Honestly, she's known for a long time. 

"Jess," she murmurs, her nose drags against his jawline. "Kiss me."

Jesse exhales, ragged against her cheek. His lips brush against hers, but he pulls back and she chases him, bringing her hand to cup the back of his neck. "Liz…"

"Please." 

Jesse rushes in, closing the distance. He cups her face, kisses her hard, so hard it almost takes her by surprise. She melts into it though, lets herself be enveloped in it. 

Right now, in Jesse's arms, nothing can hurt her. She feels safe, and for the first time since the beginning of this saga, she lets her guard down, and a scenario where she keeps the baby plays out in her mind.

Much to her surprise, she doesn't outright recoil.

Jesse's always been good with kids, he loves playing with and telling jokes to Samuel’s boy and girl whenever he brings them to the clubhouse. And he goes gaga over Isaac’s toddler, just eighteen months ago all Jesse wanted to do was hold and burp him. Jesse's just so soft and tender around kids, a complete polar opposite to his gang leader self who won’t hesitate to put someone down. 

Samuel and Isaac have kids, both run this gang alongside her and Jesse, and they make it work.

Maybe this was the clarity she needed, someone to share the weight of this burden to help her think clearly. 

She pulls away to take a breath, pressing her forehead to his. “How do you know it’ll be okay?” 

“We’ll make it work,” Jesse whispers. “We’ll dig up those old Deadlock connections, bring the county sheriff on the payroll. Do some good deeds for the members of local council so they know they owe _ us _ favours, even do some charity work so we look good in the public eye. It'll make sure we’re protected from any shitstorm that heads our way.”

“I’m just worried that I’ll be stuck here lookin’ after this kid while you’re out there, having fun and living.”

“You won’t.” Jesse pulls back, holding her face in his hands. “If you wanna come out, you can come out. I’m not going to guilt you into staying. I’m not going to guilt you out of living the life you wanna live.” He smiles softly. “I don’t think any of ‘em will expect that of you.”

Ashe exhales, nodding slowly. “I just wanna be there for them.” She places her hand on her belly. “I don’t wanna end up like my mother.”

“You won’t,” Jesse says. “You’re ten times the woman she ever was. And the club will look after the little one too. Samuel’s and Isaac’s old ladies will gladly babysit for us.”

“Yeah,” Ashe murmurs, looking into his eyes. With Jesse on her side, the support of Isaac and Samuel and their wealth of knowledge about kids and juggling the outlaw life, keeping the baby suddenly doesn’t feel as daunting as it did an hour ago. “I think we can make this work.”

“I _ know _ we can.” Jesse takes her hands, pulling them up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “It’ll be fine. Really.”

Ashe smiles, wrapping her arms around Jesse's shoulders and holding him tight. 

_ It'll be fine. _

"I think I’m ready to be a mom," she says slowly as if tasting the words on her tongue, and she doesn't hate it. It actually makes her smile. "And you're goin' to be a dad."

Jesse squeezes her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He sobs, she feels it in his whole body. "I'm going to be a daddy."

* * *

"God, I'm so fucking nervous." 

Ashe scoffs. "Y'ain't the one who's gonna tell him."

"He's gonna cry! You saw him when he chose to watch The Notebook. He was a blubbering mess."

"It's endearing." Ashe watches Bob tidy the living room from last night's activities, placing the empty beer bottles in one box, the discarded take out containers and the rest of the trash in another. She'd offer to help but he always turns it down. "He's got a sensitive soul."

Bob leaves the room, unaware of their presence, and Jesse sighs. "Maybe we should wait till later."

"No, I wanna do it now. Before he figures it out on his own or one of the other shitheads tells him. He won't be happy if he doesn't hear it from me."

"I think you're giving them too much credit," Jesse says with a chuckle. He brings her hand up to her mouth, kissing it. "They're dumb as dog shit."

She looks at her hand, still up to his lips. "You keep that up, it won't take 'em long to put two and two together. They might be dumb but you heard the jokes. I stopped drinking and smoking the second I _ suspected_, it took three days before they questioned it."

"I didn't think anything of it," Jesse says with a smirk. 

Ashe matches it with her own. "And you think_ they're _ the ones as dumb as dog shit?"

Bob steps back in the room, and Ashe tugs on Jesse's hand. "Bob, you got a minute?"

Bob looks at her, then at their joined hands. He blinks, glances at Jesse then back at her, nodding.

"Sit down big guy," Jesse says, finally moving his damn ass and stepping in the room. 

Bob sits on the couch and Ashe sits next to him. He's tense, his shoulders are hunched and he keeps looking at hers and Jesse's joined hands—she can tell he's worried about what_ this _ is. She made sure, in the times that followed their first night, that they strictly kept any and all affection—sex, kissing, touching—behind closed doors. She wanted to keep things professional, Bob knows that she likes to keep things professional, so his worry about this public display of affection is unsurprising.

Taking a deep breath and squeezing Jesse's hand tighter, Ashe looks up at Bob. "The night of the Scottsdale heist, Jesse and I celebrated a little too hard. We've been seeing each other since then, _ celebrating, _ I suppose, and…" she glances at Jesse and he smiles encouragingly. "I'm… We're having a baby."

Bob looks between them. She’s honestly not sure how he’ll react, it’s a fifty-fifty chance that he could be happy, or punch Jesse’s lights out for defiling her. When his eyes well with tears and he grabs her hand, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. 

"We haven't had a scan yet, and I know you'll wanna be there—" she grunts when Bob pulls her into a hug and chuckles when she feels Jesse pressed against her back. When she feels a drip of oil run down the side of her face she smiles. "Bob, you big sap."

Pulling away, Bob cups her face and kisses her forehead. He looks down at her and nods, and she pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes and face. 

"There's more," Ashe says, analysing the oil stains on the white cloth. "I haven't talked to Jess about this but I know that he'll support it…" she looks up at Bob, blinking back her own tears. _ This _is what she was more nervous about. "I want you to be the baby's godparent."

Bob's eyes well with tears again and he looks at Jesse. Jesse's hand settles on her waist, holding tight, his other claps Bob's shoulder. 

"Yeah, of course," Jesse says, his voice quiet and on the verge of breaking. She hears him sniffle and she turns around to see him wiping his eyes.

"Jess," she murmurs, cupping his face.

Jesse chuckles. "It just became very real all of a sudden." He smiles, looking into her eyes. "We're having a baby."

"We are," she says, her smile growing wider when Bob's hand settles on her shoulder. "We are."

"Well then," Jesse says, "we should organise a scan and meet the little one."

* * *

"I need to take the world's biggest piss."

Jesse snorts, placing his hand on her knee, stopping it from bouncing. "Soon."

"_Now _ if you stop my distraction," she says, bouncing her other leg. Honestly, it's the only thing stopping her from pissing herself in this waiting room. They wanted her to drink an obscene amount of water before this scan because they needed her bladder to be full and it's so full she's sure there's a backlog in her kidneys waiting to pass through. 

"Elizabeth?"

Ashe cringes. She hates it when people use her full name in public, but they have that name on her insurance and she can't be bothered legally changing it.

"Liz, please," she says as she stands. 

"Liz, my apologies." The sonographer extends his hand. "Right this way." 

Focusing on putting one step in front of the other, she follows behind, ignoring the bathroom door she passes on the way. 

"Please, lie down," the sonographer says, gesturing to the bed. He takes a seat at his workstation and types. 

Ashe lies down, taking a deep, anxious breath. She looks at Jesse and holds out her hand, he pulls his seat up beside her and takes it, squeezing tight. "You all right?"

"Nervous," Jesse breathes, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it.

"Okay," the sonographer says, turning around and smiling. He looks from Ashe to their joined hands, to Jesse. "I assume you're the father?"

"Yep," Jesse replies. 

"Great." His eyes shift to Bob. "And you..?"

Ashe glances over, seeing Bob pull his handkerchief from his pocket—he’s clearly ready to go—and smiles. "Godparent."

"Very good. Now, Liz, I need you to lift your top and open your jeans."

Taking back her hand, she exposes her midriff and unbuttons her jeans.

"That's good enough," the technician says, slipping a bit of paper towel over the seam of her jeans. He picks up the lube and smiles sympathetically. "This will be cold."

Ashe nods, watching as he squirts some on the ultrasound probe. He presses it to her bladder and she flinches; he might as well be pressing snow to her belly. "Weren't kidding, huh?"

"Never," he says, looking at the screen. It's nothing but a mess of black and grey and white. "How far along are you?"

"Eight weeks," she breathes, narrowing her eyes and trying to make sense of the soup when he stops and pushes down a little more, putting more pressure on her bladder. She prays to whoever will listen that she doesn’t piss herself on this bed. 

"There you are," he says, turning the probe. He focuses on a grey blob in a sea of black. "You see that flashing white spot right in the middle? That's the baby's heartbeat."

"Oh my God," she breathes, eyes welling with tears. There's nothing else there but the telltale bean-shaped mass she remembers from high school sex ed., but it has a heartbeat. "That's our baby."

Jesse sniffles. "Sure is."

"Jess," she breathes, placing her hand on top of his and looking into his eyes. "I…" she stops, her mouth hangs open. _ I love you _ repeats in her mind, over and over like an old CD skipping, and she knows, as much as she wants to scream it from the rooftops, now isn't the time or place. Taking a breath, she glances back at the screen. "We're gonna be fuckin' parents."

“We’re gonna be parents,” Jesse repeats. “Aww come on Bob,” he says, and Ashe glances over to see him hunched over, patting his eyes.

“He’s a sensitive fella, huh?” the sonographer says, tapping at the keyboard. 

“You can say that,” Ashe replies. She watches as he scans around before focusing on the baby again. 

“Just taking a couple of pictures for you,” he says, “so you can show family and friends.”

Ashe huffs a laugh. “Ain’t any of our _ friends _ getting their hands on these.” She shudders to think what the triplets will have to say about this whole situation. 

"Keepsake then," he says, lifting the probe. He hands her a wad of paper towel. "We're all done. Next step is to organise an appointment with your ob-gyn. We’ll send this scan to them when it all happens."

Ashe nods, wiping herself down and untucking the paper towel from her jeans. She tosses it into the trash and the moment she’s buttoned-up, Jesse takes her hands, bringing them up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. He doesn’t say anything, just gives the goofiest smile she thinks she’s ever witnessed from him, but it’s all in his eyes, warm and inviting and tells those three little words.

_ I love you. _

* * *

Ashe stares at the numbers typed on her phone. 

She's surprised she remembers them after all these years. The last time she called, it was her first year away. It was Thanksgiving, and homesickness was kicking her ass, much to her astonishment, and she thought she would check in, say hi. 

She was naïve to think that she would get any reciprocation of love. No, all she got was a rushed thirty-second conversation, twenty-five seconds of that was just how much of a disappointment she was to them and that she won’t get any inheritance. 

Tossing her phone to the bed, she buries her face in her hands. She never bothered after that, and six years later, she's been happier for it.

That's what makes this sudden weakness so surprising: why _ should _ she bother? They won't care about her or the baby, they won't offer to take her in. Hell, it would be a miracle if they even congratulated her.

"Hey," Jesse murmurs from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She exhales slowly, picking up her phone and showing him. "Was thinking of telling my parents, but decided against it to save myself the fucking headache."

Another kiss to her shoulder. "You know I'll support whatever decision you make…"

Ashe suppresses her eye roll. "But?"

"They're your parents. They deserve to know."

"_ Bob _ raised me, that's why I asked him to join me when I left, and _ that's _ why he's the baby's godparent."

"Then why did you even consider calling them in the first place?"

That’s the million-dollar question, isn't it? Now that she's at twelve weeks, entering the second trimester, she can start telling people about the pregnancy considering the risk of miscarriage is reduced. 

And for whatever damned reason, her parents were at the front of her mind, the first to tell. 

"’Cause despite everything, I still feel like I need to prove myself to them," she mumbles. Frowning as she looks at the numbers one last time, she deletes them and placing her phone on the nightstand. "I can imagine the grilling now: 'Not only did you have sex out of wedlock, it was also unprotected, and you are having _ his _child, conceived in a loveless relationship.'" She rolls her eyes. "I'd rather save myself the trouble."

"You don't think they'll be excited about the prospect of a grandchild?"

"_ If _ they approved of you, which they never did, and _ if _ we were married, which we're absolutely not, and _ if _ we were respected members of society, which we aren't, then _ maybe _ they'd be excited." Ashe sighs deeply, trying to keep the tide of anger and resentment at bay. 

Most days, being herself, doing what she loves knowing that her parents despise it keeps her going. On the odd days like today, it just stings; not having their love our support when that's what she's craving leaves her empty and hollow inside.

She dabs her eyes with her robe, focusing on Jesse wrapped around her like a blanket, his chest to her back, his lips on her shoulder. Jesse's here, _ his _ love is all she needs.

Her parents can go and get fucked.

"I like to think," Ashe says slowly, "that there's another universe out there where my folks are decent people who cared for and nurtured their daughter, who will be excited about _ that _ child." She laughs bitterly. "But this shitty universe ain't it."

"I'm sorry Ashe," Jesse murmurs against her skin. "It's horseshit, especially considering that if my folks were still kicking, they'd love the prospect of a grandchild."

Ashe winces. Jesse rarely talks about his parents, and when he does, he always sounds so sad. "I'm sorry," she says, cupping his face and kissing his cheek. "I must sound like a total bitch."

"Naw," Jesse whispers. "I saw the way they raised you, their shitty excuse for parenting, you got nothing to apologise for." His hand drops, his palm resting over her navel. "It's just fucked up that they can't see past their Puritan ways and will ignore our child's existence."

"Sure is." She places her hand on top of his and kisses his cheek again. "I'm sorry for waking you."

A small smile blooms on his lips. "You didn't. I've been awake for the last little while."

Ashe raises an eyebrow playfully. "So if I _ had _ called them, you'd have eavesdropped?"

"_ I _ like to call it emotional support."

"Eavesdropping."

"You'd have asked for me to be with you anyways."

Humming, Ashe leans in, cupping Jesse's jaw. "You got me there." She gives him a peck on the lips. 

He scrunches a hand through her hair, his breath is ragged against her mouth. He leans in again, pressing another kiss to her lips, then her jaw, her neck. His hand drops lower still, between her legs, but he doesn't move any further.

She turns to sit in his lap, sweeping his wild bed hair aside. "The thought of my parents turns you on, huh?"

"The thought of them_ disapproving _ of us turns me on. What're they doing now? Getting ready for church?"

"Well, it is a Sunday."

Jesse hums, sliding his hands over her shoulder to open her robe slowly. It pools in her lap, his fingers trace the curve of her breasts, he cups them, pushing them together, sweeping his thumbs over her nipples. "Your tits look fucking amazing. They're just full and perky," he holds them in both hands, "bigger than a handful now."

She cannot help but smirk. She's only twelve weeks in but she's already gone up a cup size. "An upside to the pregnancy so far."

"How're you feeling?" he asks, his hands drop to her hips.

It takes her a moment to realise that she doesn't have that telltale nausea, that churning in her stomach like every morning previous. But now that she's drawn attention to it, it could be a slippery slope. "I don't feel sick, amazingly, but I don't wanna be mid-fuck and feel the need to rush off."

"I won't mind," Jesse says with a sly wink.

"You say that now." She sweeps his hair behind his ear, swiping her thumb along his cheek. "Cuddle?"

Jesse turns his head to kiss her palm. "A'ight," he murmurs. 

She climbs off his lap, dropping her robe to the floor and slides back into bed. She lies on her side, Jesse presses his chest against her back, she feels his erection against the cleft of her ass. 

"Y'ain't taking these away from me though," he murmurs against the nape of her neck, cupping a breast and giving it a playful squeeze. 

Ashe smiles, feeling all kinds of content and loved, resting her hand on top of his. "I wouldn't expect anything different."

* * *

They decide against outright announcing the pregnancy. 

Time simply got away from them, and now, four months into it, it just seems weird. 

Most have seemed to have worked it out, between her sobriety from alcohol and weed and tobacco, the two hours worth of morning sickness every day, Jesse’s more than open touches to her belly and overall affection in front of them, it’s not a hard conclusion to come to. 

They haven’t said anything about it, either. Ashe is sure that the triplets still haven’t worked it out, despite all living in the clubhouse with them. Samuel and Isaac, they’re a little more observant, she can see that they know in their smiles from across the room, or their constant offers of lemongrass and ginger tea, or topping up her glass of water. 

The strange part is, despite knowing, no one’s congratulated her on it. Not that she expected—nor _ wanted _congratulations. That brief moment of weakness at twelve weeks passed, and it made her realise that this kid really is no big deal.

Despite being four months along, she’s still not showing. It’s a good thing, she supposes, it’s proof that even though she's got a living thing growing inside her, she is still capable of running the gang and going on heists. No-one has stopped her, nor showed any concern, probably because she wouldn’t be afraid to put them in their place if they tried. 

Although, she can tell that Bob _ wants _ her to take it easy. She’s told him, time and time again, that she doesn’t need to sit when addressing the rest of the gang, but that still doesn’t stop him from towering over someone, usually one of the braindead triplets until they move. 

Though she knows, as she’s told to take a seat on Samuel’s couch with Jesse while he heads off into one of the kid’s bedrooms, that thin veil of her personal life not interfering with work is about to fall. 

“Been holding on to these for a while,” Samuel says, entering the room with a cardboard box in his hand. He sets it down on the coffee table and takes a step back. “For when the two of you, you know…” he gives this strange, lopsided thumbs up and a low whistle, and Ashe looks on through narrowed eyes. If it’s a euphemism for sex then it’s a piss-poor one at that. 

Leaving Samuel sitting in his awkwardness, Ashe turns her attention to the box. She pulls back the flaps, revealing exactly what she expected: baby clothes. “Samuel” she breathes, picking up a soft pink jumpsuit. She could be having a girl. What if she’s not? These will be useless. “You sure?”

“Yep, we ain’t got any use for them anymore, and the two of you haven’t exactly started shopping.”

“Samuel,” Ashe says, rolling her eyes. “I’m _ only _sixteen weeks.”

“Shit, that’s longer than we thought,” Samuel replies, smiling sheepishly. “We thought it was closer to twelve. So you slept together before movie night?”

Ashe chokes on spit, entering a coughing fit. Movie night was that godawful disaster movie from the turn of the century which was boring as fuck. It was before she even _ suspected _ she was pregnant, she was on the right side of drunk, frisky, thinking she was being subtle by reaching into Jesse’s pants to jerk him off in the room while everyone watched the movie. He, of course, took over, practically picked her up and draped her over his shoulder to take her into the next room over, and they fucked, hard, fast, and potentially so loud they might have let the entire clubhouse know. 

“That’s _ not _ when it happened,” Ashe says, gulping down air. “So yes. Before then.”

“Couldn’t have been long, though.”

Ashe scowls. “Do you get off on knowing the sexual habits of your coworkers?”

“Only when they insist on being loud and obnoxious. You know we can hear _ everything_, right?”

Ashe is sure she blanches. The second trimester has kicked up her sex drive a thousandfold, she can think of at least five occasions this fortnight alone where she’s yelled at Jesse _ repeatedly _ to go harder, faster, pull her hair, all in the middle of the day, while the clubhouse is bustling—

“Jesse,” she wheezes, pulling herself out of her spiralling thoughts. When he doesn’t answer, she elbows him in the ribs and looks at him, and she immediately sobers up. He’s holding up the smallest dress she’s ever seen, complete with a cutesy zebra picture on it. The embarrassment and anger melts away, and she places a hand on Jesse’s knee. “Jess,” she says softer, looking at the small item in his hands. 

“It’s so tiny, Liz,” Jesse says, barely a whisper. “In five months we’re going to have the tiniest little human in our hands, wearing this, and it’s so _ small _.” He looks at her, tears stream down his face and he tries to wipe them away quickly with his hand but the damage is done. “Sorry,” he murmurs, huffing a laugh as he looks away, shaking his head, “I’m just emotional.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Samuel says, deadpan. “I swear, you’re more hormonal than her.”

Ashe ignores him, cupping Jesse’s face, and he leans into the touch. “You don’t have anything to apologise for.” 

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his eyes. He puts the dress down and digs through the box, clearing his throat. “You got any boy stuff? We don’t know what we’re having.”

“Yeah, got a bit of everything,” Samuel replies. 

“Oh God, Liz, look,” Jesse says, pulling out a pair of grey shorts with little cacti on them. “The kid is absolutely wearing these.”

“Giving the kid your shit taste in fashion,” Ashe replies flatly. “Nice one.”

“Hey, you like my sense of fashion.” Jesse side-eyes her, smirking slyly. “It’s what attracted you to me in the first place.”

_ “If _ I recall correctly, asking you to take _ off _ your clothes is what got us into this situation in the first place. There ain’t _ anything _ sexy about your jacket.”

“Why throw out a perfectly good jacket just because the sleeve got torn up?”

“You _ could _ have just ripped off the sleeve and sewn on a new one, not do whatever Frankenstein job you’ve got now.” She eyes his torn jacket, his t-shirt sleeve which sits longer than the leather, the bandana he insists on tying up around his arm for whatever goddamn reason. Ashe has complained endlessly about his mismatched gloves, but he insists on two different pairs.

Jesse shrugs. “I like it that way anyways.” He reveals his forearm. “It shows off my tattoo.”

Ashe rolls her eyes, but affection sits warm in her chest. This is the man she’s having a child with. The man she’s been in love with for a damn long time. The man who just admitted that he dresses like a disaster to show off his tattoo. 

She looks at him and smiles fondly. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * *

“Jess,” Ashe murmurs, rolling onto her side and shuffling closer to Jesse, so her stomach is pressed against his back. She places her hand on his hip, trailing down his thigh. “Jess, I’m horny.”

Jesse grumbles something she doesn't quite catch, and her hand drops, cupping his cock. 

“Jess, wake up. Please, I wanna fuck.”

“You get it hard, you can do whatever the fuck you want with it,” Jesse mutters, then he huffs. “How can you still be horny anyways? We _ literally _ spent the day fucking.”

“Hormones,” she breathes, getting off on his growing dick. Despite _ loving _ every single moment of her increased sex drive, she wasn't prepared for just how good it feels. The sensations, the pressure, coming, it's like it's amplified by a thousand. And it's not just internal stimulation, the feel of his nails dragging against her skin, the pull of her hair, it's all heightened and feels fucking amazing. 

With this being their sixth time today, even she's a little surprised she’s ready to go again. But getting up to pee, then unable to get back to sleep, then thinking about sex because she can smell Jesse on her, led to this. She thought about just fingering herself, but why would she when she's got a perfectly good cock to play with instead?

Biting her lip, she tugs a little faster. She’s so turned on right now, she could probably straddle his leg, grind against him and come. “Sides, you don’t want more sex?”

“I _ want _ to sleep.”

Ashe hesitates. “Oh.”

“I didn’t say stop.”

She dives in, kisses his neck, rolls her hips against him on instinct, and moans against his skin. His dick twitches, he’s almost fully hard now. “I’m so fucking wet.”

“I bet you are.”

She gives his cock a good squeeze now that he’s rock hard. “Turn around.”

“On my side?”

“Yep,” Ashe says, rolling over. She reaches behind her, her hand settles on top of Jesse’s as he lines himself at her entrance. “Slowly,” she moans, feeling the tip of his cock press inside her. Every glorious inch thereafter leaves her breathless, euphoric, tipping her over the edge. Her back arches, her toes curl, she moans as she grabs Jesse’s hand and drags it up to her breast. He squeezes tight, pinching her nipple as he finally bottoms out.

“Did you just come?”

“Mmhmm.” She floats down from her high, turning her head and meeting Jesse in a slow kiss. “Not nearly satisfied, though.”

Jesse chuckles, rolling his hips. “Good,” he murmurs, kissing her neck. “Cause if you were, I’d be telling you to suck my dick for waking me up just to come before I’m even fully inside you.”

“_Telling _ , huh?” she moans as the pressure builds again, and she reaches behind her to tangle her fingers through his hair. “That’s how you’re goin’ to treat the mother of your child? _ Ordering _her to suck your dick?”

“You love it when I tell you what to do,” Jesse breathes, thrusting a little faster. “As we learned earlier today.”

_ Earlier today_, being their third round of sex before it was even noon, where they decided to roleplay and they both got off on the fact that she really fucking likes being ordered around. 

“I was just horny—Jesse!” She pulls on his hair as he rolls her onto her stomach. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.” His weight pressing her into the bed is enough to leave her sitting on the edge of orgasm again. “God, fuck, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Jesse thrusts faster, skin slaps against skin. He kisses her shoulder, her neck, and the moment he sucks on her skin, she comes, moaning into her pillow. 

Now hyper-aware that Jesse’s got his entire weight on her, now that she can _ feel _ the pressure of the baby in her belly, she props herself up on her elbows, pushing back. Jesse grinds against her, his head drops between her shoulder blades as he groans, thrusting hard once, twice, and stops, moaning against her skin. 

He rolls onto his side, bringing her with him. His hand settles on her belly, over the barely noticeable swell. “Sorry if we squished you, kiddo.”

Ashe snorts, her hand settles on top of his. They lie in silence, and despite wanting to enjoy the afterglow, she wonders when she’ll feel the baby kick. 

Eighteen weeks and still nothing.

She chews her lip. She hopes everything is okay. 

* * *

“Bob?”

Ashe stops in the living area, watching Jesse, P.T., Terran, and Zeke playing some racing game on the Xbox. She rolls her eyes; children, the lot of them. “Anyone seen Bob?”

The response she gets is a long, mumbled chorus of ‘no’. They don’t bother to ask why, don’t bother to tear their eyes from the screen.

“Y’all useless,” she mutters, leaving the room. She looks back at her tablet, she’s got a list of supplies in the warehouse that need transporting because they’ve finally found a seller, and Bob’s the heavy lifter. Seriously, for an Omnic that has to duck under doors and takes up two-thirds of the couch, he knows how to hide. 

She hears rustling coming from the storage room and heads towards it. When she steps through the threshold, she stops in her tracks. All the crap they had stored in here is gone, the floor is covered in plastic. Bob has his back to her, but he's pouring daffodil yellow paint into a tray, and three walls are painted in the colour.

“Bob…”

Bob turns around, looks at her, and quickly turns back, placing the bucket of paint onto the floor. He raises his hands, signing _ surprise_,before extending his hand towards her.

“Oh, Bob,” she says, taking his hand. “It’s… It’s gorgeous. A fantastic colour.”

Bob nods his head. He takes back his hand and signs, _ Since you insist on not moving out of the clubhouse, this will be a safe, quiet space for the baby. _

“No point moving. We’re better together.”

_ And it is close to Jesse’s room. I know he is in yours now, but it might be worth moving into his, to be closer. _

“That’s not a bad thought, though we gotta clean the fuck out of it first.” She doesn’t _ want _ to know how many people’s _ juices _ are soaked in that mattress, or cleaning the _ years _ of smoke out of the carpet and curtains. 

Pushing those filthy thoughts aside, she smiles as she pictures the room with furniture in it. “It’s perfect, really. We can put the crib in this corner, opposite the window. Rocking chair right here, where it gets the afternoon sun. Change table by that wall.” She glances at Bob and he nods. “Thank you, so much, for this. For everything, really. We've barely got our shit in order, and you’ve laundered Samuel’s baby clothes, bought more on top of that, you've created a wishlist of furniture, meanwhile, I’m resisting the need to buy maternity clothes.” 

She sighs, looking down at her growing belly. She can just wear jeans with the button undone, like today, or sweatpants for the duration of the pregnancy, right? Screw buying clothes she’s only going to wear once. What a waste of money. 

Now that she’s got an idea of what the room will look like, it’s time to get off her ass and start getting her shit together. They’re over halfway now and time has just flown. “How about tomorrow, we head out and look at some of that furniture. Jesse can come too instead of rotting his brain in front of that damn TV.”

Bob nods again. She looks around the room, thinking about mobiles and decals to decorate the walls, and feels a flutter in her stomach. It’s not a nervous flutter, though, it’s a _ physical _ flutter, and she presses her hand to her belly, feeling it against her palm. 

Ashe gasps. “Bob! I think the baby’s kicking!” She pulls Bob’s hand onto her belly, looking at him. His eyes drop to her stomach, then back up to meet hers. “Do you feel it?”

Bob blinks at her, and before she can even think about being happy, Bob pulls her in for a hug, squeezing her to within an inch of her life. 

“Easy there, big guy,” she says, and Bob loosens his grip, but doesn’t let her go. “We’ve been trying to coax the baby to kick every night for the last three weeks and I can’t believe that you’re the first to feel it.”

“Oh, hey you found—whoa.”

Ashe pulls away from Bob, settling on Jesse in the doorway as he looks at the yellow walls. She rushes over, placing his hand on her belly. “Baby finally kicked!”

“Oh my God,” Jesse breathes, resting his hand on top of hers. After a few moments, he frowns. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I,” she murmurs. “Might’ve tuckered themselves out. But now that it’s finally happened, you’ll feel it soon enough.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, chuckling. He pulls his hands away and smiles, but she can see the disappointment in his eyes and it breaks her heart.

“Hey,” she says, rushing forward and cupping his face. “You’ll feel it, don’t worry.”

“I know,” he says, defensive. “I just…” He looks into her eyes, and for a moment she sees vulnerability, or rejection, maybe, but it passes lightning quick when he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You wanted to be the first one,” she murmurs. 

Jesse rolls his eyes. “I’m not _ that _ pathetic.”

Taking a breath and holding it, she lets it go for Jesse’s sake. She knows him, that’s _ exactly _ what’s eating him up. He’s always been possessive like that. Exhaling slowly, she glances at the yellow walls, trying a different tactic. “Bob took it upon himself to paint this room for the baby. We’re goin’ to the mall tomorrow to look at baby stuff. Figured it’s time.”

“Yeah, probably is.”

She chews her lip, watching as he looks around the room. “Wanna come?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a grin, which is a little more like himself. “I’ve had some ideas for decorating the baby’s room, it’ll be good to see this stuff first hand, make sure it’s good.”

“You didn’t share those ideas with me,” Ashe says, a little defensive.

Jesse shrugs. “Been keeping it close to my chest. Besides, you’ll see it tomorrow.”

Ashe rests her hands on her hips. “Should I be worried?”

“No more than you should be,” Jesse says with a devious smirk.

_ That _ has her all kinds of worried.

* * *

Baby shopping is literal hell. 

There are so many options and variations on _ every single item_. Why does a stroller need to cost two thousand dollars? What is the advantage of an oak timber crib over a prefab one? 

She’s unprepared, overwhelmed, and in way over her head.

Jesse, on the other hand, is having a field day. Turns out his decor is cacti. Of course, it’s cacti—the guy’s a walking fucking cliché. He’s managed to find a cot sheet set, which she’ll admit is adorable because it’s got little animals on it alongside the cacti, but also cot blankets, a stack of baby clothes, a floor mat, wraps, bibs, reusable diaper covers all with some form of desert shrub on it. 

He’s happy, truly joyous, though, and she can’t find it in her heart to tell him to put it all back. He took the not-feeling-baby-kick incident harder than she thought he would, drinking himself absolutely stupid, which is more than he’s had in the time he’s known about the pregnancy. Then he spent the night with his hand on her belly possessively, mumbling incoherent nonsense. From what she could decipher, he was telling the baby that he loved it with all his heart, then promptly fell asleep. His hand never moved, and she didn't have it in her to shift it away. 

Jesse seemed to get it out of his system, though, he woke up this morning with renewed vigour, so she’s not about to kill that.

“You thought about a breast pump?”

“No,” Ashe groans, closing her eyes. The _ vivid _ images from the video she watched this morning over breakfast flash in her mind, and what has been seen cannot be unseen. Nipples shouldn't _ do _ that. “One brand is recommended but apparently the pump is noisy. The other not so much because the pump can fault. There’s a third brand no one really touches. Why, _ why _ are there so many products!”

“Competition. It’s an exclusive market.”

“Expensive,” she says, looking at a three thousand dollar stroller. “You’d think for something so fucking expensive it’d come with a cup holder.”

Jesse snorts. “You’re paying for the brand. I did some reading and this one,” he grabs her hand, leads her to a modest one and a half thousand dollar one, “is pretty good. Got good safely ratings, is easy to fold up, has a cup holder which you _ apparently _need.”

“If I’m walking the baby to get it to sleep, I wanna be able to sip a coffee while doing so.”

“And it’s convertible, meaning we can use it for when they’re a baby all the way up to toddler, so we don’t need to buy a second one as they grow.”

Ashe looks at the stroller, grabbing the handle and testing it out. It feels as smooth as the rest of them. If Jesse's happy with it, then she is, too. “Sounds good." She looks at Bob. "Bob, you got any input?” He looks back at her and gives a thumbs up. “All right, let’s do it.”

“And I’ve got the perfect car seat too. Not the most expensive you can get but it’s up there. And we’ll have to get another one when they outgrow it. But that’s four years from now.”

“Lead the way,” Ashe says, extending her arm. She follows behind Jesse, listening to him listing the safety features of this particular car seat over the others with an air of professionalism like he works at this damn store, and she realises just how woefully unprepared she is for this baby.

But at least one of them is. 

* * *

One of Ashe’s favourite things at the moment is listening to Jesse play the guitar. It was his idea, he read somewhere that music can stimulate baby, and picked it up to try and coax the baby to kick. The baby’s been a lot more active in the last week, but every time baby puts on some acrobatics, Jesse’s been out or asleep, so he hasn’t caught it. 

But he’ll play the guitar every night without fail. Often it’s just whatever tune comes to mind, sometimes a song he heard in passing, but as his confidence soars, so does his talent. He’s started playing his own tunes recently and is writing down the music, planning on collating the songs just for baby. 

It’s so fucking adorable, she could cry.

Baby hasn't kicked in a while, so she’s expecting it soon. She told Jesse to play established songs so he’s not caught writing something down when baby kicks, so he’s switching from Metallica to Nirvana to Foo Fighters to fucking nursery rhymes because his antiquated taste in music matches his antiquated taste in fashion. 

Listening to him sing is a rarity, something that he doesn’t do too often because he thinks his voice is shit. It’s not, it’s really good, and despite how many times she’s told him otherwise, he doesn’t listen. Tonight, though, he’s chosen to sing, and she has almost broken down three times already. 

Fuck, her hormones are so out of whack it’s not fucking funny.

With her hand pressed to her belly, just over her navel, she waits in anticipation for the kick. She’s relaxing, just drank an obscene amount of Sprite and a massive bowl of ice cream to get baby moving. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen soon. 

Jesse glances up at her when he switches to _ You Are My Sunshine, _ smiling brightly as he sings, and she smiles back. Those feelings of love she had for him have grown into something she didn’t realise she could feel. Before it was lust, then it almost felt forced because she was pushed into a situation she didn’t want. It felt like loving him for the sake of loving him, for the sake of the baby.

Now… Now it feels real. She’s seen him mature in the last couple of months. He’s practically dropped tobacco, he’s limited his drinking, he’s more careful on heists, actually planning them with Isaac step by step, making sure he and the team get out of there in one piece. 

When he’s back on base, he makes sure her every need is taken care of. He picks fresh lavender in the mornings and places them on her nightstand to curb her continuing morning sickness. He makes sure she’s drinking enough water and reminds her to take the plethora of multivitamins. Ensuring she maintains a healthy diet while supplying her with a constant and steady stream of chocolate because her dormant sweet tooth has kicked into overdrive. Amusingly, all she needs to do these days is give him the _ look_, a sly little wink and smirk, and he will literally drop whatever it is he is doing so she can fuck him because her hormones are really increasing her sex drive.

They never discussed monogamy, and as far as she can tell, he isn’t sleeping with anyone else. Honestly, with the amount of sex they’re having it’s not a surprise, but it’s comforting to know he’s not between someone else’s legs. 

She wonders if that’ll change after the baby is born. She knows she’s going to be so tired that sex will be an afterthought, a constant ‘tomorrow’, and she doesn’t know if that will be enough to push him away and into someone else’s arms.

Given everything she’s seen in the last few months, she’s sure it’s just her anxiety talking. Jesse said it himself, they’re in this together. He loves this baby, that much is obvious, so at the very least, she knows he’s going to be present after. 

The image of him cradling their baby while he sings to them floats in her mind, and she chokes back a sob. 

Jesse catches it, he’s got a little twinkle in his eye. He looks down at his hands, finishing the song before transitioning into something softer. “What?”

“Ain’t nothing,” she murmurs, pillowing her head on her arm. She rubs her belly soothingly, watching his fingers. “You’re improving.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. He’s bashful, his cheeks turn a shade of soft pink. It’s cute. “Thanks.”

“You know this is my favourite thing at the moment.”

“Would’ve figured the sex would be it.” Jesse smirks slyly. “You’re a machine.”

Ashe affectionately rolls her eyes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Ain’t complaining.” He starts playing one of his own songs, the first one he wrote down. He’s written lyrics but refuses to show her, stating that it’s not ready yet. What he is doing this time, though, is humming. 

She’s never heard him hum it before, and it gives her an indication of what the lyrics sound like with the music. Despite not making eye contact with her, she can see how much it means to him, just how emotional it makes him. There’s the subtle twitch of his lips, his quiet sniffling. Her eyes well with tears when she sees his, and this time, she doesn’t stop them—

Baby kicks, _ hard_, and she jolts up. “Jesse!”

Jesse stops, she yanks his hand and places it on her bump. There’s a moment of calm, she starts to worry that the sudden movement scared baby, but then, baby kicks again, probably the strongest she’s ever felt it. She looks into Jesse’s eyes as his are locked onto her belly, tears streaming down his face. 

They stay like that for what feels like forever, captured in this moment where for the first time it feels like they’re actually a little family. Images of baby’s first day at kindergarten, helping with school projects, playing ball in the backyard all fill her mind, and she cannot wait for it all to happen. 

Baby puts on an amazing show, and Jesse feels each and every one of those kicks. His hand remains on her belly long after baby’s settled down, making sure he caught every one of them. He meets her gaze, wiping his eyes with his other hand before slinging off the guitar and sliding up next to her. They kiss, it’s a horrid mess of tears and mucous but she doesn’t care, it’s perfect, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. 

He presses his forehead to hers, hands cupping her face. “I love you,” he whispers. “So goddamn much.”

She sobs, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you too.”

* * *

“Baby is doing incredibly well.”

Ashe breathes out a sigh of relief, squeezing Jesse’s hand tighter. Scans are infrequent, and she can’t help but worry about baby’s well being between each one. Barbra, her obstetrician, is amazing, she’s no-nonsense, doesn’t beat around the bush. Ashe loves her.

Baby _ looks _like a baby these days, with clearly defined facial features, even down to the fingers on their tiny little hands. 

“Good amount of fluid.”

“Good.”

“Placenta is fine…” Barbra leans in, taking measurements. “Remember the last scan how I said we’d have to keep an eye on it because it’s covering part of your cervix?”

Ashe studies the image, but she has no idea what she’s looking at. “Yeah?”

“It’s sitting lower, not covering it yet, but I don't like it.”

“What does that mean?”

Barbra pulls the probe away, giving them her full attention. “It means that I am recommending you have a caesarean section.”

“I…” Ashe looks at Jesse. “Okay.”

“I’m really sorry, but the baby can’t be delivered naturally if the placenta is in the way.”

“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Ashe says. “If I’m being honest, I was most apprehensive about the delivery. Now I don’t have to worry about it.”

“C-sections still come with their risks, it is major surgery after all, but as long as you stay on top of your medication, it’s essentially pain-free childbirth. If you’re lucky, you won’t even go into labour.”

Ashe cannot help but grin at that thought. She’s not afraid to admit that she’s a weenie who hates pain, so not experiencing labour will be a best-case scenario. She had been thinking about having an elective c-section for that very reason but had been afraid to mention it. 

"Have you had any bleeding?" Barbra asks, continuing the scan.

Ashe shakes her head. "Nope."

"That's good. Give me a call if that changes. Also, I want you to take it easy, limiting sexual intercourse and exercise for the duration of the pregnancy. We don't want to trigger bleeding."

Ashe winces, glancing at Jesse. "Sorry, babe. No more fun between the sheets."

Jesse just shrugs, but he's got a sly little smirk on his lips. She can just hear him now: _ non-penetrative sex is a thing_.

“We’ll try to take the baby to thirty-nine weeks,” Barbra says, continuing the scan. “We'll increase scans to once a fortnight until then up monitor it. I don't expect it to move any more this late in the pregnancy, but you never know. I’ll have reception book in the c-section with the hospital, so all you need to do is show up on the date.” 

She looks at Jesse. “Nine weeks. Single digits.”

“That is…” Jesse suddenly looks afraid. “So soon.”

“Nine weeks is still over two months,” Barbra says, printing off a picture. She picks it up and hands it to him. “Plenty of time. Have you done any of the parenting courses?”

“Not yet,” Ashe replies. Reality is, they originally didn’t think about bothering with them, they’ve _ seen _ it with Samuel’s and Isaac’s kids, and if those doofuses can look after a baby without breaking it, then they should be more than fine.

“I’d recommend the c-section recovery class, but the breastfeeding and life after baby classes are good too. Honestly, they’re all good, but those are the best ones for first-time parents.”

“I suppose we can spend a weekend doing those classes,” Jesse says. “I mean, I might have held a baby, but I have no idea how to settle one, or burp one, hell, even change one.”

“Definitely do the classes," Barbra says, handing Ashe a wad of paper towel. 

Ashe takes it, looks at Jesse and sighs. “Guess we’re goin’ back to school.”

* * *

Having P.T., Terran, and Zeke with their faces almost pressed to the bare skin of her belly was not something Ashe ever, _ever _ wanted, but right now, looking at their respective terror, curiosity and amusement, it’s entertaining. 

“Ashe,” P.T. says, pulling away, “that is fucking _ disgusting _.”

“What?” She looks down as baby does another flip, causing her entire stomach to bulge and ripple. “They’re stretching.”

“Nup.” P.T. steps back, looking a little green. “Gross. There is a _ thing _ inside you that _ clearly _ wants out. It’s gonna burst out all,” then he mimes an explosion with his hands over his stomach.

“That _ thing _ is my kid,” Jesse says sternly from beside her, giving P.T. a good, threatening stare down. “You just be careful what you say, a’ight?”

“Shit yeah, sorry,” P.T. says, raising his hands up slowly. 

“It’s fine,” Ashe says, looking down. “It’s kind of gross.”

“I think it’s amazing,” Terran says. “Your body has _ made _ this baby, one that’ll breathe and live and maybe cure cancer, who knows. _ You _ did that, Ashe. It’s wonderful.”

There is a moment of calm, Ashe can feel her tide of laughter bubble up, and all it takes is a single glance at Jesse, seeing his face as he tries to contain it before she loses. They laugh, P.T. and Zeke laugh with them. 

Ashe sighs as her laughter subsides, wiping her eyes. “That’s some pretty deep stuff,” she says. "How high are you right now?"

"I'm in the stratosphere, baby." Terran winks slowly and slyly. Knowing him, he probably thinks is sexy but it’s just all kinds of dirty. 

"Dr. Terran strikes again," Jesse says. "It’s amazing how weed makes your brain finds those two cells floating in that empty space to rub together.” 

Terran shrugs. “Well you didn’t hire me for my brain, so it don't matter.”

Ashe hums. The triplets joined as prospects, they were given patches after they proved their worth: Zeke for his hacking skills, P.T.. for his outstanding planning, and Terran for his cunning, making men twice his size piss their pants in terror with a single look. It’s actually impressive to watch.

Her belly tightens, and she winces. “Here comes another.”

“Oh _ God _—” P.T. tears out of the room with a hand over his mouth as Jesse holds onto her hand. 

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “Fuck this Braxton Hicks bullshit.”

“This is the single most greatest and horrifying thing I have ever seen,” Zeke says, looking up at her. “What does it feel like.”

“When your muscles cramp,” Ashe replies, focusing on her breathing. “It feels hard and tight and fucking awful.”

“Can I touch it?”

Ashe frowns, but nods. Zeke places his hand at the very top of her belly, where the cramping is most obvious, and the second he touches her skin he pulls his hand back, looking at his palm like it burnt on contact. “That must be painful.”

“Not painful,” Ashe breathes out slowly as her belly starts to relax again. “Just uncomfortable.”

“The human body is simply fascinating,” Terran says. “I love these squishy, fleshy bags of blood and tissue.”

Ashe rolls her eyes. “Simultaneously impressing me and grossing me out: A day in the life of Terran.”

Terran flashes finger guns at her before asking each of them individually if they’d like another hit by miming a bong hit. Zeke nods, Jesse shakes his head, Ashe politely refuses. The second they’re out of the room, Jesse squeezes her hand, and she meets his eyes.

“I’m sorry that this whole thing is uncomfortable for you,” he says. “I’d take it all away if I could, all the bad stuff you have to put up with.” He lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles. 

“The curse of the female body,” she replies, placing a bracing hand on her belly as she shifts on the couch. “It’ll all be over soon enough.”

Jesse hums. “Eight weeks.”

Two short months. 

* * *

Ashe looks at the wrapped doll proudly. 

"Wasn't so tough," Jesse says from beside her, picking it up and holding it against his chest. 

"Yeah," Ashe replies, picking up her doll and cradling it. "We got this."

"Sure do." Jesse places the doll back on the table, and Ashe winces as the doll's head impacts it. "Whoops," he says with a little chuckle. 

"Yeah. You gotta support baby's head," she says, cupping the doll's head and placing it back gently on the table. She analyses the doll, and in six weeks, this will be real. Her child, looking up at her with hope and promise in their eyes, the whole world is their oyster. She smiles, placing a hand on her belly.

"And you think you're not ready for this."

She blinks back into now, glancing at Jesse as he cups her shoulder. "To be fair, a doll is literal child's play compared to a tiny human."

"True, but that was a glimpse of what _ will _ be." He drapes his arm over her shoulders, pulls her in close and kisses her head. "You're going to make an amazing mother."

"And you'll be an amazing father."

He looks down at her, huffing a laugh. "I love you," he murmurs, placing a hand on top of hers. 

She closes her eyes when he meets her in a kiss. "I love you too."

* * *

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon. Her ankles are swollen, her back is aching, baby is doing flips, constantly over and over and she is just so tired. 

Jesse decided to sit out of this heist, it's a small thing six hours away that he trusted with Isaac and the triplets. Instead, she and Jesse are spending the day in bed, sleeping it away, only getting up for snacks and water and bathroom breaks. Which feels like every five minutes with baby pressing on her bladder. 

She's lying on her left side, belly pressed to Jesse's back. They're holding hands, she can feel baby kicking against him. This is his favourite thing, there's a level of closeness, intimacy, than just having his hand on her belly. 

They stay like that, listening to the playlist Jesse's compiled of songs he's learned and learning for baby. No words are spoken between them, not until long after baby's settled down.

"I hope it's a girl," Jesse murmurs. "She'd be the biggest little badass."

"Little girl would be nice," Ashe replies. "Little boy would be good too."

"He'd be a pint-sized terror." Jesse turns around, smiling. "Imagine a five-year-old running the joint."

"Thinking they know everything about everything, putting us in our place."

"It's going to be fun."

Ashe hums, looking into Jesse's eyes. She cups his face, sweeping his hair behind his ear before tracing her thumb along the slope of his nose. "I hope they've got your nose."

"They'd have your eyes, for sure. Hair, too, I'd reckon." 

In her mind, she sees her little baby, white hair and red-brown eyes. She wonders what baby would look like with Jesse’s skin tone, their little fingers curling around hers, the tiny toes on their feet—"Oh God," she says, grinning, “what if they've got your toes?"

Jesse scoffs. "What's wrong with my toes?"

"They’re weird and curl in on themselves, and your little toe has a nail so small you can't even see it."

“Better than your freakishly long toes,” he replies with a cheeky grin. 

If she wasn’t heavily pregnant, she’d jab said long toes into his stomach as payback. Instead, she pushes him away playfully. It does nothing to deter him, as he wraps his arms around her chest and pulls her in for a hug, kissing her forehead.

“Have you given thought to names?” he murmurs against her skin.

“A little,” she replies. “Turns out I hate more names than I like.”

“Same.” Jesse pulls away, looking into her eyes. “I was thinking if it’s a girl…” he smiles, his eyes well with tears. “Jesus,” he says, wiping them with the back of his hand. “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

Ashe can’t help but seize this opportunity. “‘Jesus I’m a fuckin’ mess’ is a name and a half, though.” She grins wide when he scoffs. “Bit of a mouthful.”

“Oh har _ har _.” Jesse takes a breath, inhaling deeply like he is about to reveal the biggest secret in existence. “I was thinking, Rosa.”

Never has anything been so clear in her life than the image of her baby in her arms called Rosa. “Jesse, that’s a beautiful name.”

“Knew you’d like it.” He thumbs over the rose on her wrist. “Did you have any names?”

“Nope. If it’s a girl, she’s Rosa.”

“What if it’s a boy?”

“I was thinking…” Ashe looks into Jesse’s eyes, cupping his face. “Joel. After your grandfather. You always talk about him, all those stories from when you were a kid. He sounded like he had such a positive influence in your life.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything, his eyes closing as they well with tears again. He nods and kisses her palm. It’s a long while before his eyes open again, and he smiles wide. “Yeah, I like that.”

* * *

If Ashe thought the road leading up to the birth was long, nothing prepared her for these final two weeks. Sleep is a thing of the past, it doesn’t matter how many pillows she uses to support her belly and back, everything aches. When she _ does _ sleep, she wakes up in an empty bed, because apparently, her snoring is so bad Jesse can’t stand it anymore. He’s called her a jackhammer on so many occasions she’s lost count.

Her feet and ankles are so swollen now, she can only wear flip-flops. She’s thankful it’s summer at the very least, there’s no way she’d manage this in the middle of winter. 

She's strangely proud that she made it all pregnancy without buying a single item of maternity wear. Her belly expanded exponentially over the last fortnight, though, and she outgrew Jesse’s shirts and is now in Bob’s. With this heat and all the sweating she’s doing, she hasn't worn a bra in weeks, and with no more fucks left to give, she just parades around in the oversized shirts and her underwear. 

Her digestive system is an absolute mess, she can call herself one of the guys at the very least, she stopped caring about farting in a full room. She practically lives on high bran foods and psyllium husk drinks thanks to the severe constipation, she's certain she's got the cleanest bowels in existence.

She’s so huge now, she's constantly misjudging how big her belly is and grazing it against chairs and desks and just about everything else that gets in her way. Accidentally bumping into one of the triplets is gross, and P.T. is keeping a few feet distance from her at all times.

But despite it all, Jesse still kisses her, makes love to her, and tells her he loves her. 

She doesn't know what he sees, she looks like a fucking whale with her big belly and cankles. Her boobs look amazing, she’ll give them that, she’s dreamed of boobs this big all her life. But that’s literally the only thing she likes about her body at the moment. 

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she fixates on her belly. Stretch marks are starting to show, looking as vivid as tiger stripes. Her navel finally popped out, so she has a permanent bump on top of her bump. 

The water beading on her skin is now cold, and goosebumps roll down her arms. She slides on her robe, ties it up above her bump, then covers her front with the towel. Waddling as fast as she can from the bathroom to the bedroom, she closes the door behind her. She sits on the bed with a groan, dropping the towel beside he and opening her robe before picking up the bottle of cocoa butter and pumping a few good squirts onto her hand to rub into her skin. 

She does it without looking at her bump, first glancing at the bassinet set up for baby, then focusing on the outside world. Never has she wanted this baby out of her more than in this moment, just so her body can return to normality again. 

Just forty-eight hours to go. 

* * *

They arrive at the hospital at six a.m.

After she checks in, they are escorted to her room. She is told to undress and put on a hospital gown, all done with Jesse’s help.

At eight a.m., she is wheeled to the operating theatre, hand in hand with Jesse, Bob on her other side, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jesse gives her one last kiss of her knuckles, Bob a kiss on her forehead before they’re taken away to be scrubbed up for the grand arrival. 

The anaesthetist is a sweetheart. He soothes her anxiety with kind words, she watches him put the drip into the back of her hand and give her a shot of antibiotics. Barbra appears then, telling her to kiss her knees—a fucking impossibility—while they administer the spinal block. 

She is wheeled into the operating theatre after that, swarmed by nurses and doctors and the paediatrician, all reassuring her that everything will go smoothly as they douse her bump in antiseptic. Three medical students approach then, introduce themselves, and she gives permission to watch the operation. 

After that, they put up a sheet between her and her lower half. It’s all very clinical, methodical. She never went into labour, she hasn’t experienced any pain leading up to this. It’s a strange feeling entering the hospital pregnant, and in ten short minutes, she’ll have a baby in her arms. No work is done on her part. No intense pain, no reward for said pain. Just numbness and a baby.

She takes a shaky breath, looking at the sterile white ceiling. The conversation of the medical staff fades into static. Every single insecurity she had that she quashed over the course of the pregnancy rears its ugly head. She’s not ready, she’s not prepared to be a parent. She can't look after a small, defenceless baby. What if she ends up like her mother?

Blinking back tears, she focuses on her breathing, in and out. It’s happening, she’s having this baby today, and there’s no way she can stop it now. She’s at the end of the line, and she needs to woman up.

Someone enters her space, and she makes eye contact with them, settling on Jesse. He’s scrubbed up all right, dressed in hospital blues, and even has a hairnet on. “Look at you,” she says, taking Jesse’s hand and squeezing tight. “Sexy image right there.”

“I know right?” Jesse chuckles, placing his hand on top of the net. “Should rock one of these whenever I can.”

Bob steps into view, and she's amazed that the hospital has scrubs that fit him. He's got the camera in his hands and gives her a gentle, reassuring nod. 

“How are we doing?” Barbra asks says from her other side. 

“Terrified,” Ashe replies, saying it without thinking. 

“It’s natural. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last. But I know, between you and Jesse, that you’ve got this.” 

It’s probably just a sentiment, something said to every person in this exact same room, but it’s reassuring at the very least. Ashe nods, smiling softly and squeezes Jesse’s hand tighter. 

Barbra turns to the nurse beside her, he lifts his hand, revealing an ice pack, before holding it out. “Can you feel this?” 

Ashe reaches out and touches it, cold as expected. “Yep.”

Then he presses it to her forehead, her chest. “Still?”

“Yep.”

He disappears around the other side of the screen. “Now?”

“Nothing.”

“Good,” Barbra says, smiling. “The spinal block is working, we’ll get this show on the road.”

Ashe wiggles her toes. “I can still move my feet.”

“It’s slow working, don’t worry. You’ll be able to wiggle those toes for a little while yet.” 

Ashe nods, watching her approach the other side of the screen, and she looks up at Jesse, kissing the back of his hand. “Ready?”

Jesse positively beams; he doesn’t look scared in the slightest. “Absolutely.”

Barbra tells her what’s happening as it happens: when they make the incision, when she’ll feel pressure as they pull baby out. She looks at Jesse and Jesse at her, and the seconds tick by slowly. Baby should be crying. Why isn’t baby crying—

When she hears it, that telltale baby cry, she breathes a sigh of relief. Jesse looks over the sheet, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“Liz…”

“Congratulations,” the paediatrician says, stepping from the curtain, baby in hand, wrapped up in a towel. “It’s a girl.” 

Ashe is handed her daughter, and she looks down at this defenceless little creature, looking back up at her quietly with big, brown eyes. 

“She’s a dead ringer for dad,” Barbra calls out.

Ashe sobs. “Sure is,” she says, looking at that head full of brown hair. “Daddy’s little girl.” She looks up at Jesse, tears streaming down her face. “Rosa.”

Jesse nods back, sniffling, wiping his eyes with his hand. 

“A gorgeous name,” the paediatrician says. “Now, I hate to do this to you, but we need to get Rosa cleaned and weighed while I stitch you up. Dad, you can come with, cut the cord, give her a proper hold. Liz, you’ll get another cuddle in recovery.”

Ashe nods, letting him take Rosa. Jesse kisses her hand as he steps away, and Bob takes his place beside her. She looks up at him, he signs, _ beautiful_, before placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ashe says, smiling as she wipes her eyes. She didn’t think it was possible, coming into this operating theatre with her insecurities, that she could love _ anything _ as viscerally as she loves this baby. Her daughter. She has a _ daughter_. 

She glances over to where Jesse and Rosa are, and Jesse’s holding her. She can’t see his face, but she can see it in his body language; this is the happiest she’s ever seen him.

Sobbing, she looks back at Bob. “She’s perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> ALWAYS USE PROTECTION!
> 
> I'm on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) Come say hi!


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